


Though I Walk Through The Valley

by CaptainIronAvenger1996



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, Alec/Catarina/Ragnor friendship, Alternate Universe, But i'll have that in the chapter warning, F/M, I'll add more tags I'm sure, M/M, Much older Alec, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sassy Alec, Though there will be details!, Warlock!Alec, and they will be explicit!, the character death is in the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 02:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11888343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainIronAvenger1996/pseuds/CaptainIronAvenger1996
Summary: Alexander was the High Warlock of Brooklyn. He had no family like most Warlocks though he did create his own, centuries ago only to have it ripped from him now Valentine has risen once more and the new generation of Shadowhunters won't seem to leave him alone. Clarissa Fray had her memories sealed and her mother has been kidnapped, she just needs help and it seems this Warlock is her best chance along with Simon, Jace, and Izzy, but why won't he help them?





	1. Chapter 1

The thing about immortality was it could be a gift or a curse. If one was friends with say vampires or warlocks then immortality could be the greatest gift one could receive, you would be amongst friends and family forever. But if one mixed with Mundanes or mortals then you would be in for a long and painful existence. However there was another option, one that many wouldn’t dream of considering, and that was the option to mix neither with mortals nor other immortals. 

Warlocks were beings of the Shadow World, a world unknown to the normal population. Warlocks, Vampires, Werewolves, Fae Folk, Seelies, individuals that are part human and part demon are all part of the Shadow World and they in turn were called Downworlders, ironic how that worked. On the flip side of the Downworlders were the Nephilim, the Child of the Angels, Shadowhunters, defenders of the Shadow Realm. Shadowhunters believed they were better than Downworlders because of their angelic blood, Alec had lived through the time that blood superiority ran high, and he saw what such beliefs had done to the world, almost destroying it and its people. 

The constant degradation by the Nephilim and their kind created prejudice between the two sides and as such Shadowhunters killed Downworlders, looking at them as though they were the scum on the bottom of their boots despite not all Shadowhunters being any better even with their angelic heritage. Make no mistake the Downworlders were just as prejudice against the Children of Raziel because of the fact that they had Angel blood and thought they were worth more than mere Mundanes or Downworlders which is who the Nephilim fought to protect in their own ways but Alec never cared for the semantics of it all. 

To Alec it no longer made a difference, Downworlder, Nephilim, Mundane, none of them were worth the trouble. There would always be prejudice because of something as minor as blood and no one race could claim they wouldn’t care about such details, they’d all proven that the details were more important than the whole. In all his centuries Alec had seen what happened to those who tried to look past the details, they were slaughtered or destroyed depending on which race they belonged to. There had been a Nephilim centuries ago who had been executed by the Clave, the very institute he had devoted his life to, because he dared to look past the detail of blood.

So here he was, centuries old, one of the most powerful Warlocks known, and he was alone. Alexander Lightwood, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, the being with a heart as black as the kohl around his eyes and the clothes he wore. 

 

I.

 

Even after over so many centuries Alec was still amazed by the stupidity of people at times.

 

As the High Warlock Alec was used to getting requests that seemed…odd or just completely useless but this one had to take the cake. Jocelyn Fairchild, a Shadowhunter, was standing outside his door with a child, a little girl no older than two in her arms. 

 

“I need your help,” the woman was desperate, so much so that Alec could practically smell it on her.

 

“You know my services do not extend to Shadowhunters, Nephilim. After all aren’t Shadowhunters forbidden from interacting with Warlocks other than killing them?” 

 

His answer was cold and hard with his face warped into a sneer, a common look to find on the Warlock’s face when he thought of the Shadowhunters, but for one to have the audacity to come to his home? Alec would have been impressed if it wasn’t for the urge to smite the woman where she stood but he would never harm a child, no matter what race they were. 

 

Without even waiting for her to speak he went to shut the door only for the door to be shoved back, the Warlock stumbling back a step at the sudden show of force. Blue and lilac sparks flew from the black coated finger nails in an instant. His eyes, hazel eyes hardened into ice and his normally blank face twisted into an ugly snarl with his canines extending to look like one of the Children of the Night, “You dare attack me in my own home Nephilim!”

 

Jocelyn put up the hand that was not being used to hold her daughter up in a gesture that Alec thought was supposed to seem like a calming gesture; he didn’t want to be calm, he wanted the Shadowhunter out of his home. 

 

“You know I’m no longer a Shadowhunter, you know that I left the Clave years ago. Please, I have no one else to go to! My daughter, I need to protect her!”

 

Alec withdrew his fangs and lowered his still glowing fingers, if a child was in danger then he would put aside his grudge and do what was necessary. 

 

“Speak Nephilim,” he ignored her comment on leaving the Clave, once a Shadowhunter always a Shadowhunter. Case in point, her using an old rune to shove past his door; leaving behind the life of a Nephilim indeed. 

 

Jocelyn frowned at the title but decided it wasn’t worth it to argue when she was here to beg for the Warlock’s spells, “My daughter, she has already gained her Sight.”

 

A moment passed in which Alec waited for the woman to continue on and tell him of the problem but when no more information appeared to be coming he raised a black eyebrow in a decidedly unimpressed face, “You realize she is the daughter of two Shadowhunters right? It was inevitable that she would get the Sight woman, she is a Shadowhunter, a Child of Raziel just like you are. Just like he was,” Alec spat out the pronoun like it was a personal offence and it was to him, “this should be nothing unexpected. I don’t know what you came here for but you’re wasting my time and you’ll pay handsomely for that.”

 

No respectable Warlock rendered his services for cheap and Alec’s rates were especially high due to the fact that he was the High Warlock and not just some run-of-the-mill Warlock. For this Shadowhunter to come and waste his time with such a trivial thing, it was insulting and bordered on degrading, as if the Nephilim hadn’t already degraded him enough throughout the centuries. 

 

As his tone hardened Jocelyn’s eyes widened, “Please wait, you don’t understand! Clary can’t have the Sight,” the woman went into a panic right there in the living room of his loft and Alec couldn’t bring himself to comprehend how he got into these situations. 

 

“Woman I’ve already told you, she was guaranteed to have the Sight, she was born of two Nephilim, she is a Nephilim. Explain what you’ve come here for or get out, I’ve no time to listen to idle chatter from a Shadowhunter.”

 

Jocelyn took a deep breath and looked up at the man in front of her. He was a tall being, over 6’2 at least and had jet black hair that was styled into an artful mess with hazel eyes but she’d seen those eyes spark into the color of the coldest ice she’d ever known when threatened. He was pale and his face was hard, as though he’d known little happiness in his centuries of life, something Jocelyn didn’t doubt; one didn’t become this jaded without reason. 

 

“I’m raising Clary as a Mundane, she will never know of the Shadow World, of her Father and what he did. She will never know about Shadowhunters or runes or Raziel and all his creations. He’s…he’s still out there and I can’t bear the thought of having her out there in the same world at him,” she glared up at the Warlock, “I won’t lose my daughter.”

 

Though her words sounded noble they created a weight in Alec’s chest, “So you’ve decided to hide everything from her. Your past, your mistakes, because you don’t want to lose her,” the mere thought made Alec see red, “but what about those who will never know another day because of you! What about the Downworlders you slaughtered! And for what purpose? Because you were too infatuated to see the truth? You were too eager to fall into bed with a madman than see what he really was?”

 

Jocelyn choked at the anger in front of her, “You don’t know anything about love at all so I don’t expect you to understand Warlock! The man I loved wasn’t the same as the one you knew!”

 

‘You don’t know anything about love.’

 

As soon as the words left her mouth Jocelyn regretted opening her mouth. The atmosphere became heavy with the Warlock’s anger, spark shot out of his fingertips like bullets from a gun and she knew fear like she’d never known before; it was easy to see why Shadowhunters considered Warlocks to be the most dangerous of the Downworlders. While the man she had loved had been a madman this man in front of her was no mere mortal, this was a being who had walked this world for centuries, once that had seen things she’d never dream of, possessed powers that her mind could never imagine. 

 

Alec’s voice was low as the words came out, deep with its rage, “You dare to pretend to know anything about me? My kind may have been born of demons but your kind are the true monsters. You parade around your Code and your morals as though everyone else is beneath you. You dare act like you are so much better than Downworlders because hundreds of years ago someone in your family was blessed with angelic power. You are not your ancestors Fairchild, those people have long since passed, none of you that remain deserve to have the power you do yet there’s nothing I can do to change that.” 

 

Taking a deep breath, Alec closed his eyes and relaxed his fingers, this was a business deal just like any other. Jocelyn Fairchild did not deserve the satisfaction of seeing him come undone, “I will help you Nephilim but only for a price.”

 

“I’ll do anything!”

 

A bitter smirk played on the High Warlock’s face, “Be careful what you say Child of Raziel for sometimes the deed is not worth the price we pay.” 

With a shake of her head Jocelyn stood tall, “But this is. This is worth whatever I need to pay.”

Alec took a moment to measure the woman in front of him, she was determined to go through with these actions and didn’t seem to think there would be any consequences involved, typical Nephilim behavior. Never did the Shadowhunters think of what they were doing, they were driven by pure instinct and self-preservation yet they called Alec and his people the monsters. 

“Even if the cost is her life?”

The red-haired Shadowhunter in front of him froze, eyes wide in horror at the thought of her child dead because of her. 

“I will take the child’s memories and I will cast a spell on her that locks her Sight. But be warned Jocelyn Fairchild, using magic on one so young can be fatal, little Clary could die in the process. You are in essence asking me to take a part of herself away from her. At this young stage she is not yet complete to begin with but to tear away a piece, even if it is just starting to grow, can have disastrous effects.”

Alec looked down at the child who had been surprisingly quiet all this time. The girl had red curls along her head like a raggedy-anne doll and jadeite stones for eyes that seemed to look straight through the Warlock and into his very core. A part of him felt a pang of guilt at the thought of one so innocent being caught up in such evil but she was born to a Nephilim, she was destined to be surrounded by darkness. 

He slowly raised his hand towards the little girl, his first and second fingers glowing a soft blue with his magic, the baby watching with excited eyes, giggling and reaching towards the glow she’d never seen before. Alec couldn’t help but crack a sad smile at the pure wonder she was emitting; Alec and his kind were often treated with scorn and disdain but when he finds someone who looks at him in awe it is when he is going to rip a piece of her very soul away. 

Damn these Nephilim and what they make him endure. 

“I’m so sorry Little One,” he whispers as his fingers gently connect with her temple, “please forgive me,” the babe’s excited face turning to a blank slate as though her personality had been erased. 

But then again, hadn’t that beene exactly what happened? Did he not just steal away the part of her that could see the Fae Folk, the beings little Mundane children always dream of meeting, always want to be with their wings and grace? Did he not just take away the part of her that could have seen the Mer and visited their lakes? Did he not just take away her ability to see the Night Children and the Children of the Moon?

Did he not just seal away her true self all because of this woman’s cowardice? 

 

Jocelyn watched the Warlock as he worked his magic on her daughter with a tinge of wariness. Warlocks and Shadowhunters were hated and bitter enemies, the meeting of the two often resulted in bloodbaths. It was said that many years ago Shadowhunters had almost been wiped out by Warlocks that were hellbent on destroying the Clave, only a few Shadowhunters managed to make it out alive. No one knew now what had started the feud for sure, or even if it had actually happened, but Shadowhunters were taught to kill Warlocks on sight unless their magic had been bound or they were raised in Idris for the protection of the wards. 

This man was hated by Shadowhunters and hated all Nephilim and anything associated with them in return, yet here he was apologizing to her little girl for tampering with her memories despite it being for the greater good. Was he really heartless like she thought? Or was it just the fact that she was a child? A sudden wail burst from her daughter’s mouth, breaking Jocelyn out of her pondering. The woman automatically pulled her daughter to her chest, cooing and rocking her gently to ease her crying. 

When he daughter wouldn’t stop crying she desperately glanced towards the Warlock, “What’s wrong with her!”

Alec felt his shoulders drop under the weight of the girl’s cries, “It worked. Your daughter no longer possess the Sight. But this spell is not permanent, you will need to return every two years in order for me to reapply the spell in order for that part of her to stay locked away.” 

Tucking the still crying child closer to herself Jocelyn couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief, Clary would never know about the horrors of the other world. She would grow up safe. She would grow up normal. 

She would grow up away from him. 

“What do I owe you?”

Alec snorted, but quickly sobered up when he heard Clary’s whimpers, “You will take my associate Dot with you. She will live with you and keep an eye on you, you say you’re no longer apart of the Shadow World but I highly doubt it will remain that way.”

With a snap of his fingers a purple portal appeared behind them and a woman with medium length brown hair and an annoyed expression stepped forward, “Dot this is Mrs. Fairchild.”

“I know who she is. What does she have to do with me Alec?” 

Giving a soft ‘tut’ under his breath he waved his hand in a very vague gesture, “I want you to watch her and her daughter. The daughter will be targeted despite what this Nephilim says, I want you to keep me informed.” 

The female Warlock, Dot, didn’t look happy about her task but nodded accordingly, “How long?” 

Alec didn’t answer for a moment but he continued to stare at Clary who had fallen into a pain induced slumber in her mother’s arms, “This is the second half of my payment Nephilim. If your daughter ever does find out about the Shadow World you will tell her the truth. All of it. What you did. What your husband did. What you helped him do to my kind. Every single detail and you won’t leave a single piece of information out.” 

“Now wait a moment,” Jocelyn couldn’t believe it, she’d been tricked, “you told me she lost her Sight! You told me you locked it away! You tricked me Warlock!”

Glaring at the fuming woman Alec flicked his wrist and her voice suddenly cut off, “I most certainly did not trick you, I did my job. However nothing is permanent woman! That’s why I told you to come back every two years, if something catches her eye towards the end of a period there is a chance she could see through it.”

Jocelyn thrashed about trying to get her voice back. She was making very crude gestures and while Alec didn’t like to read lips he could understand her perfectly fine, such awful language for a woman,“It was either this or I tamper with everything and kill or drive your daughter to insanity! Take your pick!”

Suddenly tired of all the crap he’d been put through with this woman he flicked his wrist towards the door, “My service is no longer needed at the moment and the job is complete, get out.” 

Jocelyn continued to glare at the Warlock for a moment before stomping out the door with Dot following behind her, rolling her eyes all the while before shooting a glare at the High Warlock as she shut the door behind the pissed off Nephilim. 

Such is a day in the life of the High Warlock. 

 

II.

It had been sixteen years since that fateful meeting with Jocelyn Fairchild and her daughter Clarissa. In those years he’d seen them 8 times and each time the guilt continued to grow and grow. Clary was scared each time and he hated that he caused an innocent child such fear but a contract was a contract and he had to keep up his end of the bargain despite knowing it could only end in pain. 

Alec hated being right. 

It had all started when word got around that Valentine had re-emerged and was once more looking for the Cup. When the madman started to go after Warlocks he knew he had to act, gathering all of his people and either hiding them within his wards or portaling them to places he knew Valentine would never find them until it was safe for him to call them. But when Dot had shown up, clothes torn and blood on her figure he knew he’d been too late. 

Valentine had Jocelyn. 

Dot scrambled to tell him that Jocelyn had taken the potion Alec had warned her of, the one that was to be used as an absolute last resort. The High Warlock wasn’t sure how Jocelyn had gotten the potion or who’d made it but either way he knew that, for the time being, Jocelyn herself was safe from Valentine; the man was mad and twisted but he wouldn’t kill Jocelyn, not without getting information first. That only left Clarissa and Alec wasn’t sure how to contact the teen. On one hand he could reach out and portal to her, effectively tearing down the block within her mind, or he could stay out of it since he wasn’t sure how it would play out. 

Alec chose the second option. 

His loft was full of Warlocks looking for protection and answers and Alec would never let his people down especially innocent ones like these. The Warlocks that Alec sheltered had never broken the Accords that had been set by the Clave, they had no reason to be slaughtered by some deluded man from a tyrannical order. His advisor, a horned Warlock named Elias, told Alec that there were too many Warlocks and that even Alec’s wards couldn’t protect the sheer number that were congregating, the gathered magic would simply draw too much attention. Thinking over what he could do Alec made a choice, “I’ll portal them to Catarina’s or Ragnor’s...they should be able to take some of them.”

Opening two portals simultaneously wasn’t something many Warlocks could do but Alec was different. Special. While Alec concentrated and kept the gateways open Elias divided the Warlocks into groups and guided them to the portal they needed to go through. They’d gotten the first wave through when a burst of flame from his side drew Alec’s attention. 

‘WE WANT A TRADE WARLOCK; CLARISSA FRAY’S MEMORIES FOR YOUR NECKLACE. MEET AT THE RAVE AT HARDTAIL.’

-J.W.

He couldn’t help but snort at the message despite it shaking him to his core at the same time. It was funny how people came asking for his help yet always addressed him by race rather than title or name, Nephilim sure weren’t taught manners in Idris of that Alec was positive. But on the other hand he was so close to getting back the necklace, the one he’d been searching for for over a century, the one that she-demon Camille had stolen from him despite knowing who it was actually intended for. The Institute was offering up a deal but Alec only focused on getting back what was his, he had to barter for his own possessions but he’d learned that Nephilim didn’t care about semantics such as ownership. 

True love never dies…

“You know you can’t go to that meeting.”

Alec jumped a bit before turning to see Elias giving him an exasperated expression, he knew some of the what the necklace was worth but not all of it. Going on automatic Alec gave the younger Warlock a shark’s grin, “And why ever not? It is my possession after all.”

“There’s a madman running loose Alec! We need you here, if you something happens to you then all of us are done for and you know it!” Elias was right and he knew it, but what could one hour possibly hurt? He knew he couldn’t return her memories but he could get his beloved necklace back….

Taking a sip of the martini in his hand he transferred it over to Elias and gave him a pat on the back like that of a child, “I won’t be gone long my friend. Make sure you all maintain the wards and you will all be fine.” 

He was off in his portal before Elias could complain. 

 

 

The Hardtail wasn't Alec’s favorite place in the world with all its loud music and shady business dealings but he could understand why they picked such a place. Tonight was the night of the biggest Downworlder Rave of the year and anyone who was anyone would be there, the Shadowhunters probably assumed he'd be there because of his position yet he'd had no intention of going before. Flashing lights and grinding bodies and pulsing music weren't his cup of tea in the least, he preferred the quiet of his loft and his books to such scenes but sadly he was forced to mingle in such events due to his power. Even before he'd gained his title as High Warlock he'd never been a fan of parties and clubs despite owning most of them in Brooklyn, a Warlock had to make a living somehow. 

He'd been waiting for the Shadowhunters for a bit when he felt them enter the club; they'd dressed to blend in and yet to Alec they stood out like sore thumbs. Setting eyes upon them he felt a rage he'd not felt in centuries rush through his veins at the sight of the black haired female wearing his beloved necklace. Lilac sparks shot from Alec’s clenched fists and his eyes flashed blue for a moment as he let the anger fester once again at the audacity of these hunters; while the Shadowhunters might've stolen that necklace decades ago that didn't suddenly make it their property to flaunt like some common diamond necklace. Alec watched as she cooed to herself how good she made the necklace look and there was no doubt in Alec’s mind that she was stunning to most but to Alec? To Alec she was merely gaudy looking with that silver sequined dress and what was that on her head, but the necklace around her neck just looked out of place on her. 

The golden haired one, whom Alec assumed was J.W., held out his hand for the necklace while his eyes never left the other female in their company, a now grown and matured Clary Fairchild. A tickle of amusement swept through Alec at the sight of the blond boy’s look, he looked like someone who'd already fallen and was denying it. He saw the black haired girl give a fake looking pout before relinquishing the necklace and walking off in the direction of the bar. They glanced around and seemed to finally find him in the secluded corner in back, his dark clothing blending in with the wall. 

Pushing out of his chair he approached the two Shadowhunters he schooled his features into his professional mask, not letting any of his annoyance or anger show, “State your business Shadowhunters and make it quick, there's a party for me to enjoy which doesn't include standing here with more Nephilim.”

Jace furrowed his brow but Clary beat him to the question, “What do you mean more Nephilim? We're the only ones here!”

Giving a snort Alec rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist for a drink, he'd need it for this conversation he could already feel. The martini glass that shimmered into existence in his hand contained a concoction of some kind that Alec wasn't sure of but he didn't care at this moment, “Now that is simply not true Clarissa. Circle members invaded Pandemonium the same day you found out about your Nephilim heritage, your kind is nothing but a constant thorn in my side. Now this conversation is riveting,” Alec gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes once more, “but I'm busy. Show me the necklace.” 

Jace held out a closed fist only to open it and carelessly let the necklace dangle from his grasp. Alec wanted to snap at the Shadowhunter for his attitude but instead just made a grab for his possession but the blonde knew his plan and jerked back in time with a haughty smirk that Alec wanted to punch off his face, “Not so fast Warlock you haven't held up your end of the bargain.” 

Alec gave the other man a sickeningly sweet smile, “I have to confirm authenticity young man. I've dealt with Shadowhunters for centuries and I know you aren't above trickery to get what you want.” 

The Shadowhunter didn't deny the accusation but he looked like he'd smelled something unpleasant, serves him right for trying to outsmart a centuries old Warlock, Alec couldn't help but mentally sneer as the boy handed over the necklace reluctantly. The second his fingers touched the necklace he felt a piece of himself come alive again, a piece that had been dead for over 300 years. The necklace was glamoured to look like a ruby but in reality it was something much dearer, a Precious Black Opal that Alec himself had mined for his lover back in 1631. At the time he hadn't known what it was simply that it was a beautiful gem for a beautiful man and he'd quickly gotten to work crafting it into a gift for his lover. Alec had poured his soul and magic into the gem itself but because of the power behind his magic the black opal had split into vein-like webs crawling over the surface. 

Angry at his lack of control Alec had almost thrown the stone out only for his lover to stop him and beg to be shown what had angered Alec so much. Instead of the rejection he'd feared his lover had stared at the stone in amazement before showing Alec how wrong he'd been to throw such a creation out. The cracks that had seemed like flaws to him only made the stone priceless to his lover, the veins flaking out to show flashes of iridescent coloring inside the black jewel. After that Alec decided to design a holder for his lover’s now most prized possession and made a metal cage for the stone. It had been created to where the latch would only open for Alec or his lover, never wanting the jewel to be stolen, and the metal swirled into patterns and webs that still allowed the stone to be seen however it was obvious it couldn't be removed. It was only later that Alec discovered the gem was an Opal, 200 years later when Opals were discovered. 

The stone held a personal meaning for him and the fact that Camille had stolen it and then handed it off to where it would become a Shadowhunter heirloom did nothing more than make his anger burn brighter. The Lightwoods had paraded around in this necklace for longer than Alec had actually owned the necklace, they seemed to think that they owned the thing despite knowing it wasn't theirs to own. Alec knew it wasn't fair to blame all Lightwoods, some had been protected by the stone and he'd even been on civil terms with them however the fact that the family had continually passed it down as an heirloom while knowing that Alec wanted it back spoke enough of their character in the Warlock’s opinion. Camille had...borrowed the necklace from Alec and claimed that it was a gift given to her by the Warlock, a courting gift. Of course Alec vehemently denied the claim though no one would hear of it since Camille and Alec ran in the same social circle most centuries and were seen together often enough. 

In 1857 Alec sold his townhouse and used the money to buy a ruby necklace with an enchantment on it that sensed the presence of demons and pulsated when they approached the wearer. While the Warlock had been studying the enchantment Camille had caught wind of the necklace and made demands for it, cashing in a previous favor if you would. At the time Alec had been weighed down by the long absence of his lover and the sight of his beloved necklace grew to be too much for the Warlock so he decided to put it away. However luck was never on his side and Camille lusted for all things that represented wealth and power, a necklace with one of the rarest gems would show just that and so she pestered him for the necklace. After so long of listening to it he glamored the necklace to look just like the ruby one Camille now wore so no one would be able to see the stone she questioned but the Vampire was clever; she switched the necklaces while Alec was in another country on business. After that the necklace traded hands many times only none of them had been Alec’s, he’d had to watch as others flaunted his own creation like a prize despite it not being their property. Now it was back in his hands and he’d make sure it never left there again, not for anything. 

With a snap the necklace shimmered into existence around his neck, magic ensuring it would stay there, and glared at the Shadowhunters in front of him. The blonde boy gave an offended shout and launched himself at Alec only for the Warlock to step to the side, avoiding the boy with elegance. He waved his hand and Jace couldn’t move from the floor, his limbs flailing in exertion, but Alec turned his focus to Clary.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary meets the Warlock who stole her memories and learns that maybe things aren't always what they seem to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long!! I don't know if anyone reads these but it would be nice if you did folks! In this fic Alec is much, much older and there are reasons for this I swear! Also in this no one knows his last name is Lightwood, he's kept that a secret and that's why they keep referring to him as just 'Warlock' because they aren't sure what to call him.

III.

“You’ve grown into a beautiful woman Little One.” 

Clary felt a jolt shoot down her spine at the nickname, it was familiar somehow but she couldn’t place it. Taking in the Warlock’s black suit, a black collared shirt with the top button left open, black slacks, a black jacket which she was sure was some kind of well known designer like Armani or something, but the most interesting thing was the kohl around the man’s hazel eyes and the black nail polish. Sure she’d seen men wear makeup before but on this man it looked natural, like he was supposed to be this untouchable figure naturally. 

“How do you know me?” 

Hazel eyes flash with something but it was gone before Clary could really even begin to figure out what it had been and in its place was a blank mask, the stoic expression left her heart feeling like ice. No one’s face was supposed to be so blank, it wasn’t natural to close yourself off like that yet this man had done it without a thought. A sudden movement behind the man distracted her, Jace was getting to his feet, his face was twisted into an ugly scowl. 

“Your mother contracted my services 16 years ago to attempt to blind your Inner Eye.” 

Taking his place at her side Clary reached out for his hand, “Why would she do that?” 

The Warlock stared at her for a moment before letting out a sigh and cursing under his breath, a hand running through his styled hair without a thought, “What do you know of your parents Clarissa?” 

Clary hesitated for a moment before deciding the truth was the best answer, “My mother is Jocelyn Fray, a store owner and Shadowhunter, I only recently found out about my father...mom always told me he’d been killed in the war.” 

A strange hiss escaped the Warlock’s lips before he turned his back to them and snapped his fingers, a lilac portal appearing before them, “If I’m going to do this then we need to be someplace private,” he held out his hand to her, “come with me Clarissa. It appears your mother did not hold up her end of the bargain.” 

Jace snarled and shoved himself in front of Clary before she could reach the man’s hand, “Why the hell would she go with you Warlock, you could be dragging her somewhere to kill her! For all we know you got tired of working for a Shadowhunter and had Jocelyn killed yourself!”

Alec gave the blonde a thoroughly unimpressed grimace, “Don’t you ever get tired of being an imbecile or do you not even realize that’s what you are?” 

“Why you!” 

Clary grabbed Jace’s arm before he could throw himself at Alec, “Jace you can’t attack him! We need him remember, you can’t hurt him.” 

A snort was heard on her other side but she kept her attention on the blonde in front of her. She’d only known him a couple days but she could tell how strong he was, the Shadowhunters at the Institute all held him in such high regard after all. But she also knew that one probably didn’t get the title of High Warlock without being very powerful and she couldn’t risk losing the only solid lead she had just because Jace couldn’t control himself. 

“You needn’t hold the neanderthal back Clary, a child such as him couldn’t dream of laying a hand on me.” 

With a huff Clary whirled herself around, orange hair glaring behind her like Phoenix feathers, “Quit antagonizing him. If you would just give me back my memories we’ll be out of your hair.” 

Those hazel eyes bore into her own but she refused to look away, she’d lost so much but she was also as close as she’d ever gotten to what she’d never known was missing. The flashing lights and thumping bass faded into the background as hazel and emerald wills battled, neither giving up any ground. A crackling sound broke the battle and Clary could only stare, dumbfounded, as the Warlock merely flicked his wrist and Izzy’s whip was stopped in mid-air. 

“I see you’ve chosen your side Clarissa Fray.” 

She couldn’t say for sure, but Clary thought she saw disappointment in the High Warlock’s eyes. Shame flooded her chest and she ducked her head down so he wouldn’t see her cheeks flame in embarrassment. A snap echoed in the club and suddenly everything went still. Clary’s head shot up as she stared at the man in front of her, his fingers still poised in the air. 

“I do not take well to being attacked, especially not within my own club,” Alec took a step towards her and Clary took a step back. Before she’d had Jace and Izzy as backup but now, now that it was only the two of them Clary felt a sliver of fear enter her mind. 

“What-what did you do to them?” 

Onyx colored nails gestured towards their frozen surroundings, “You weren’t willing to listen with your guard dog barking at me and the noise got to be irritating, so I suggest you listen to me carefully.” 

Clary’s mouth dropped open, “You stopped time?!” 

Alec’s lips pressed together and his eyes narrowed, “I am centuries stacked upon centuries old, freezing the moment is child’s play to me but that is beside the point,” Clary’s mouth started to open and Alec flicked his index finger at her. 

The girl’s eyes widened fearfully as she tried to speak but no sound came out, “Quit interrupting your elders, it’s extremely rude and wastes precious time. Now, your memories have been preserved and I am willing to retrieve them for you but only for a price.” 

Alec waved his fingers at her again to return Clary’s voice to her. The redhead sighed in appreciation at the feeling of having her voice back, it was disturbing to feel your own voice simply vanish from within your vocal cords. With her voice back Clary focused all of her attention upon the Warlock in front of her, “Why for a price, they’re my memories and you stole them!” 

“I stole nothing. I was paid to make sure those memories were removed and that is exactly what I did.” 

Clary resisted the childish urge to stomp her foot in a display at his answer, they were her memories and she’d not given consent to have them tampered with. When she said as much to Alec she was surprised to see him toss his head back and let out a laugh, “Oh child, I forget how naive your people can be. The world does not care how you wish things to be, though it’s amusing that you seem to believe that your opinion would actually make a difference in the world of business.” 

“I’m a living person!” Clary marched up to the man and jabbed him in the chest with her finger in anger, “I’m not some means for you to afford your makeup and fancy loft! You stole my memories without my consent and I want them back!”

The amused light disappeared from the Warlock’s hazel eyes and he raised a hand, deliberately slow, and grasped her wrist in a firm grip before lowering it at the same slow pace he’d raised it, “I assure you Clarissa that I made no money off of you. I never wanted to take your memories because I saw no point in it, as you grew older and your mother had less control over your actions you would undoubtedly miss an appointment and there would be nothing I could do.”

Subtly trying to pry her wrist free Clary listened as he explained that he’d never wanted to do what he’d done, “If you didn’t want to do it then why did you? I’m sure an _all-powerful Warlock_ such as yourself could have refused one mere Shadowhunter,”. Hearing the heavy sarcasm at the ‘all-powerful Warlock’ Alec’s grip tightened drastically causing Clary to flinch at the sudden pressure that was being exerted, maybe the sarcasm hadn’t been the smartest move on her part. 

“I did my job because I wanted your mother to fail.”

It felt like ice had suddenly flooded Clary’s veins; with a grunt the girl jerked her wrist out of the Warlock’s ironclad grip and unglamoured the Seraph blade she’d brought with her. Pointing the blade at the Warlock, “You set my mother up? Give me back my memories you monster or I’ll run you through right now regardless of my memories!” 

Where Clary had expected some kind of reaction, irritation or perhaps, if she’d been lucky, some kind of unease but instead she saw Alec’s lips twitch into something that was almost a smile, “Is this where I’m supposed to be afraid Clarissa? Honestly, the blonde has been trained for years and he could never lay a hand on me. You’ve known of your heritage for what, a few days? Surely you don’t expect to be able to get near me.”

Gesturing at her awkward hand position on the hilt of her blade, “For starters you’re holding the blade incorrectly, your fingers can’t overlap while holding the blade or you’ll never be able to put all of your strength into the swing. Secondly, do you think that I can’t dodge the shaky steps you’re no doubt going to be taking in your charge with those uncomely heels on? Shoes like that offer no support, you’ll never be steady enough to actually make the attack if it’s something you aren’t used to.” 

Humiliation and anger warred within Clary’s chest, she knew she’d be no match for the ancient being but that didn’t mean she appreciated him pointing it out so bluntly, “Watch me! You set my mother up and you’re going to pay for that!” 

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose in his irritation, “My apologies Clary, I’m afraid you’ve misinterpreted my meaning. I didn’t quite word that the best way so the fault is mine,”. Taking a deep breath he started again, “Your mother approached me when you were all of two years old and asked me to blind your Sight because she was raising you as a Mundane and not a Shadowhunter.” 

Clary lowered her sword marginally, “I already know that part. What I want to know is why she felt the need to take my memories in the first place, is Valentine really that evil?” 

Alec met Clary’s dismayed gaze with his own steady one, “If the Shadow World learned that you were Valentine’s daughter they would surely have slaughtered you. Valentine committed countless atrocities against the Shadow World as a whole, he is the Clave’s greatest failure. When the Clave learns of your true parentage they will most likely derune you, exile you, or just lock you in the Silent City for the rest of your life.” 

All of the fight left Clary and her arm fell limply to her side, “But-but that’s not fair! I wasn’t even born when he did all the things he did, why should I be punished because of what blood I happen to have running through my veins?” 

Ale felt a pang of sympathy for the girl standing in front of him, “I wish the world ran on ideals such as that Clary but I’m afraid that world will never exist.” 

Lost green eyes looked to him, “But why not…?”

“As long as life exists so will prejudice, fear, pride, all the things that make a man like Valentine possible.” 

Tears started to fall down Clary’s face as anger took over the shock she’d felt at the knowledge of what could happen to her, “And you! If you’re actually so powerful why didn’t you do anything? You could have done something couldn’t you? Why did you let him get so much power in the first place, are you really that much of a coward?” 

The sudden feel of fingers under her chin made Clary’s breath catch. Hesitantly she looked up to meet ice blue eyes glaring into her own, the cold in those eyes sunk into her skin and she suddenly wished that she was anywhere but near this man. When he spoke his voice was lower than she’d ever heard but somehow the words were clearer than any he’d uttered prior, “I will only say this once infant, I will return your memories for a price. Once you get them back you will leave me be. That means you will never darken my door again, I’m done with Shadowhunter business. Whatever happens between Valentine and you and the Clave is of no concern to me.” 

Bile started to creep up the back of Clary’s throat as she realized that the man in front of her was effectively telling her that he was going to hide away while others fought for their lives just because he didn’t like the Shadowhunters, “You’re just like Valentine,”. 

The Warlock’s mouth suddenly morphed into a hiss and Clary could only watch in astonishment as his canines extended into full-length fangs, “I am nothing like that monster!” 

Feeling a new burst of courage Clary pulled her chin out of his grasp and looked into his eyes, “You are! You’d condemn all of the Downworld because you hate the Clave so much just because of their angelic blo-”

“Do not presume to know my reasons for staying apart from the Clave!” 

The building shook as the Warlock’s magic surged forward, a deep violet color instead of the normal aqua and lilac she’d seen flashes of when he snapped his fingers. As she took in his appearance she suddenly understood why people were frightened of this man; his normally hazel eyes had turned into an ice blue that was harder than any diamond, nails growing into talons, fangs exposed from his snarl, and the magic swirling around him like a vortex. A deep growl escaped his throat and Clary’s hand covered her mouth in disgust as she watched his back begin to shift like something was trying to escape from underneath the jacket. The sound of cloth tearing echoed as what looked like wings shot out from the Warlock’s back to curl around him, some sort of membrane began to stretch across to connect the appendages. 

Clary’s legs gave out as she realized exactly what she was seeing; the appendages were bones. Bone wings had encased the Warlock, the almost cream coloring of normal bone seemed to have faded into an ugly gray like remains that had started to disintegrate over time, the membrane that had come to cover the gaps between each finger in the wing had an off color like that of rotted flesh. What she could only call the flesh of the wings seemed to run out before it could cover them all, leaving some with holes or uneven layers. Bat wings Clary thought with a shudder, his wings reminded her of bat wings; bone wings and rotted flesh, he truly was the creation of a demon. 

“I gave you an offer Clarissa Fairchild; your memories in return for never bothering me again. I thought my offer was rather fair but instead you choose to throw my generosity back in my face and you will pay for that I can assure you. Never show yourself before me again, any knowledge I have of your mother, your father, and their motives will remain with me.” 

With a snap the Warlock in front of her disappeared and she was left on the ground staring at where he’d been, unaware that Jace and Izzy were next to her, calling her name as time returned to the club. 

 

IV.

Stumbling blindly into the doorway Alec tried to block the memories that threatened to overtake him. Clary’s horrified face as she’d seen his true form overlapped with countless others, his mother’s disgust, his father’s insanity, so many countless others that had all stared at him with such emotions. 

_‘Demon’_

_‘Monster’_

_‘Abomination’_

 

_‘You are not a monster Alexander…’_

 

“No!”

Throwing out his hand Alec heard the sound of glass shattering but he couldn’t bring himself to look, only to collapse against the wall, his legs refusing to support his weight any longer as the voices started to scream in his head. Alec began to shake his head back and forth, thrashing it wildly as if trying to physically dislodge the voices from within his mind, sobs trickling out of his throat. Pressing his hands over his ears to block out the noise Alec distantly felt a pair of solid arms wrapping around his shoulders and a much softer pair around his other side but he was too far into his own head to really give it any thought. 

Hours could’ve passed but Alec wasn’t sure, his throat was raw from the sobs that had been wracking his throat and his head throbbed insistently. Gradually the man began to realize that he wasn’t alone, a beautiful blue-skinned woman with white box braids falling down to her mid-back was laying against his right side while an older gentleman with two horns curled on top of his head lay against his left. 

“I’ve never understood why you glamour your green skin but not the horns Ragnor, you look half naked.” 

The Englishman gave a huff before pushing himself up, “I come here to comfort you and I receive this in return? Catarina why did you drag me here to listen to this?”

Catarina chuckled and curled closer into Alec’s side, “Because you need to leave your mansion more than once every decade Ragnor, besides I think Alec’s right.” 

Ragnor just scoffed in disgust and disappeared into the living room leaving Alec and Catarina curled up in the hallway, “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but what are you two doing here anyway? I sent the Warlocks to you two so they’d be safe, you being away defeats the purpose of that.” 

“Elias sent us a fire message after you portaled to meet those Shadowhunters, he told us you were going to do something stupid.” 

Alec gave her an offended look, “You know I always have a plan when it comes to such things Catarina, I’m not a fledgling in his first century.” 

“No,” Cat’s sapphire eyes looked into his own now hazel colored ones, “but you are over a millennia old and still making rash decisions.” 

Rolling his eyes Alec shifted into a more comfortable position with his long legs stretched out in front of him, “I should never have told you two how old I really am, you’ve hounded me about it ever since.” 

Catarina stood up from the floor and dusted off the back of her scrubs, how she made those god-awful hospital scrubs look almost elegant he’d never understood in the centuries he’d known her, “Most Warlocks have to lie about our age so others will show us more respect, not many of us can tell the truth and still have such respect.” 

She held a hand out to him and he took it. With surprising strength Cat pulled him forward and he groaned at the feeling of his back muscles stretching out after so long in such an awkward position, “Yes but Cat when I do tell clients my age they think I’m lying anyway.”

“Well it’s true that not many of us are actually over 1,000 years old so I guess I can understand where some might be a bit skeptical,” her hands gently found the tears in his shirt where the ligaments to his wings had come out and sent a gentle flow of healing magic into them, it always hurt when his wings broke free from his skin. 

“I’m hardly a day over 1,273 for your information.” 

Giving an unladylike snort Catarina gave Alec a dry look, “And was 744 a good year?”

“Certainly not, quite boring really. The only interesting thing that happened was Pepin the Short chasing Theudebald off his mountain in what’s now Southwestern Germany .”

“And how could you possibly remember such a thing when you were a mere babe at the time,” a voice hollered from what Alec could only guess was his kitchen. 

“Because I read Ragnor! I might’ve just been born at the time but I did have to study history at some point just a few years later and that was by far the most interesting thing I found out about the world at the time.”

Coming into view with a cup of steaming tea Ragnor gave Alec a blank look, “And what exactly is so interesting about that to you?”

Alec just shrugged, “I’m not sure I’d want to tell anyone that I was run out of my home by a guy named Pepin the Short.” 

The older Warlock heard Catarina muffle a snicker into her hand while Ragnor just rolled his eyes skyward in a much practiced long-suffering look, “How is it that you are almost thrice my age yet I’m the one with gray hair?” 

“Well considering you glamour it that color I don’t know what you’re complaining about Ragnor.” 

Said Warlock just shot a pointed glare at the older, Alec offered him a guileless smile in return, “You can wipe that smile off your face Alec, it hasn’t fooled me in two centuries.” 

Shrugging Alec walked into his living room and over to the bar where he kept his most expensive liquors to pour himself a shot of bourbon. He heard Cat and Ragnor settle onto the couches behind him and knew that they were waiting for him to open up, if he didn’t Ragnor would surely bulldoze ahead in that charming, sardonic way of his. Alec took a sip of his drink as he mulled over the events of the night. 

“Did you at least get the necklace back Alec?”

Looking over his shoulder Alec saw Catarina giving him a sympathetic look, she’d known what it was like to lose someone better than most. Giving a nod he pulled the collar of his shirt down to show the chain to the two Warlocks, “Then you gave Clary Fray her memories back?”

Alec set his drink down on the bar before dropping onto the couch on the other side so they were all seated on different couches, “I didn’t. They tried to broker a deal but her Nephilim guard dog wouldn’t stop barking so I froze the moment for us. She...did not take the news well.” 

Ragnor merely snorted into his tea, “A Nephilim not reacting well to not getting their way? How shocking.” 

“She said I was no different than Valentine.” 

The two younger Warlocks could only stare at their oldest friend in shock for a moment before the rage set in. Ragnor dropped his teacup and started to pace in front of the window, chewing on his thumbnail while muttering under his breath. While Ragnor needed to get up and move in his anger Catarina went still as stone, her normally compassionate blue eyes turning into glaciers. 

“Please tell me you at least cursed her a bit for that.” 

Alec winced and resolutely looked at the carpet before giving a stiff shake of his head. Clary’s horrified face flashed across his eyes and he had to press the heel of his palm against his eye, physically forcing the image from his mind. He knew his demon marks were worse than a normal Warlock’s, Ragnor and Catarina both had unnatural colored skin and hair, the English Warlock even had horns but Alec’s markings were far worse. His eyes hadn’t been so bad to deal with, blue eyes weren’t uncommon in the Mundane world and his fangs and talons had been a bit worse but they’d only made him look like a Child of the Night. 

His wings though, they had by far been the most brutal. 

They were grotesque in appearance and painful to manifest no matter how many years passed. Learning how to call them forth and fold them back inside his back had been crucial to his survival but it had also been one of the most painful lessons he’d learned in his early life. In the early years Downworlders hadn’t been able to congregate like they could now, there hadn’t been any clubs for Downworlders to come to, no open communication between the races, it had been very much survival of the fittest. The first time his wings had manifested he’d been with his mother and he remembered her face, the shock had quickly morphed into horrified disgust, she’d screamed and cried and cursed Alec only for his father to come in and see-

Rapidly blinking his eyes he focused himself back on the present to see Catarina and Ragnor giving him concerned looked. The blue-skinned nurse had migrated to sitting beside him while Ragnor had stopped his pacing a few steps away from the couch, “It’s not true Alec, you are nothing like that man.”

With a sigh Alec shrugged off her hand only to rub his hands over his face, “Well she was right about one thing, I could be of more help locating Valentine. But I made a vow to never help the Clave, if he comes for the Warlocks I’ll fight him but I have no intention of getting between him and the Clave.” 

“You don’t owe them anything Alec, you’ve always protected the Warlocks with your life and I know you’ll do the same now,” Catarina nodded at Ragnor’s words. 

“But if he gets the Mortal Cup then we’re all in danger. He controls the Clave and he can get to the Soul Sword, we’re no match then no matter how powerful our lineage is.” 

Grabbing his bourbon once more Alec drowned the rest of the shot and stared out at the city lights, “You two need to get back and protect our people, I’ll stay here and deal with the Shadowhunters. I can’t trace Dot’s magic anymore so she’s either captive or dead and that means that right now there are only three Warlocks in this entire city.”

Catarina stood beside Ragnor as they looked towards their leader, “I’ve got my house warded, they’ll be safe in Devil’s Lake.” 

Ragnor chuckled at his friend’s choice in city, “I’ve always thought North Dakota was the most random of states for you to settle in Cat.” 

“Well you’d never have looked there for me would you?” 

Tilting his head in concession the British Warlock waved a hand to open a portal, “I’ll keep them safe but I doubt Valentine will go scavenging across England to find a handful of Warlocks.”

Alec gave them both a hard look before walking over to them. He gently cupped Catarina’s cheek before laying a kiss on her brow, lingering there for a moment he pulled back and leaned his forehead against her’s, “Be safe my friend.” 

He pulled back and moved to Ragnor to do the same thing, a kiss on his horned brow and gently leaning his head against the other’s, “Be safe.” 

When the two had disappeared through their specified portals Alec settled himself into his armchair. As the only Warlock in this borough now he knew it would only be a matter of time before someone came looking for him. 

He could be patient.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon makes his appearance and Alec begins to explain his story!

V.

The loft was completely dark, only the light of the moon breaking through the windows illuminated the living room and in the corner in the armchair sat Alexander, elbows on the arms of the chair while his chin rested on linked together fingers. With his eyes closed Alec felt the wards around his home flicker briefly as someone entered, someone he didn’t know. It had been three days since Catarina and Ragnor had taken in the Warlocks, three days since that disastrous meeting with the Nephilim, and he’d sat here for all three days, just waiting for when someone finally decided to seek him out just as he knew they would. 

A sudden banging on his door broke Alec out of his thoughts but he didn’t bother getting up open the door. He’d purposely left the wards on the door open so that someone could open the door the old-fashioned way if they were truly trying to break into his home. The banging continued for a few more moments before going silent for a minute or two. A jingling sound drifted through the otherwise silent loft as the person on the other side began to pick the lock. 

A Mundane that Alec could only describe as mousey poked his head into the dark loft, his glasses picking up some of the moonlight and blurring half of his face. It was obvious he hadn’t sensed Alec yet as he made his way through Alec’s hallway and into the living room. A part of him was amused at the Mundane’s valor, breaking into a Warlock’s home wasn’t something most beings would do, but the other half was strangely annoyed at his solitude being interrupted by someone such as this. 

“Simon Lewis.”

Simon yelped at the deep voice from behind him and whirled around to find a figure sitting in the darkest part of the room, “What is it with you, what are you Downdemons or something? You all skulk about in the dark, I mean light bulbs were invented for a reason you know, you don’t have to sit in the dark and besides it’s a little creepy don’t you think just sitting here in the dark and-”

Alec rolled his eyes at the Mundane’s complete gibberish, “By the sands of time, don’t you ever stop talking?”

“‘By the sands of time’? Aren’t you supposed to say ‘Lucifer help me’ or ‘Satan forbid’ or something like that? I mean I figured you wouldn’t say ‘Heaven help me’ or ‘Good God’. I mean- no that came out wrong, maybe you do say that? I really don’t know.” 

With a groan the Warlock pushed himself out of the chair to make his way across the room to the boy who looked like he might try to flee at any moment, “Heaven and God have forsaken me centuries ago. And even if Lucifer was in control he wouldn’t have any say over my dictation Fledgling.” 

Simon let out a nervous chuckle before shuffling a step back from the man in front of him, “Centuries, right. You know what, this was a mistake I don’t know what I was thinking coming here but you’re clearly insane so I’m just gonna back away slowly before you pull a knife or a gun.”. He wasn’t sure about what the man had called him but he was pretty sure that he didn’t actually want to understand why he’d called him that. 

Alec gave a pained sigh as he snapped his fingers, light flooding the loft around them, before stepping to his bar and pulling out a canister that he kept in there for special occasions. Simon meanwhile was looking all around the loft like he was searching for the hidden camera, he kept snapping his fingers like the lights would shut off but nothing worked, “Okay, how did you do that?” 

Mentally counting to five and backwards Alec closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose before turning to ask the boy, “With magic obviously, Fledgling. What exactly did you think a Warlock would use?” 

Simon just stared at him blankly, “Warlock. So Warlocks are a thing too?”

Confusion began to creep into Alec’s thoughts, surely the Fledgling knew who, or at least what he was since he was here. If the boy in front of him didn’t have any idea of who Alec was and what he could do then what reason did the boy have to be here? Keeping his eyes on the boy he began to take slow and measured steps towards him to show he meant no harm, “Surely you know who I am?”

 

Honestly Simon had no idea who the guy was, just that apparently the Captain America knock-off Clary had ditched him for hated the guy and that was a plus in Simon’s book. Not even a week ago Simon had been just your average guy who’s proudest moment had been surviving accounting, but now? Now Simon had no idea what the hell was going on and he was just so tired and he wanted someone to take just five freaking minutes out of their oh so busy schedule to tell him what the hell he had gotten dragged into! 

Everything had gone to hell the night of Clary’s birthday when she said she’d seen this guy (who Simon knew now was Jace apparently) kill some random dude in the club. Of course Simon hadn’t seen anything and he thought Clary had just had too much to drink but then Jocelyn had been kidnapped, Dot went missing, the shop had been practically destroyed, and somehow he’d gotten tangled up with Shadowhunters and actual Vampires. Actually, scratch the getting involved with Vampires, he was pretty sure he was turning into a Vampire and he was scared shitless. He’d reached out to Clary but she kept blowing him off, saying that he just needed some time away and that he didn’t need to be involved anymore. 

Too late for that now wasn’t it!

Everything just boiled over in that moment and Simon lost what little control he’d been able to keep over this week from hell. Marching over to the guy he pushed his finger against the older male’s firm (holy hell what did that guy do? Did he use Warlock magic to stay in shape because no one should have a chest like that holy shit) chest, “I don’t have a clue who the fuck you are Harry Potter all I know is that apparently the Shadowhunters can’t stand you so you’re the first person I figured to come to.” 

Turning around Simon began pacing all up and down the room, his hands zooming around animatedly as he ranted and raved about the past few days, “My best friend that I’ve know practically my entire life ditches me for some random wannabe gothic biker dude who claims he fights demons that the normal world can’t see, my second mother has been kidnapped, I was kidnapped over some cup, and really,” he whipped around to gesture around him in the common ‘what the hell’ gesture, “it’s just a cup! What is so fucking important about a cup? And demons? Vampires? Warlocks? Invisible guardians? What is this shit, World of Warcraft? Because I did not sign up for this so if you could kindly do your snapping thing again and cancel my subscription to this shit I’d appreciate it!” 

Simon watched as the man in front of him coughed before bringing a hand to cover his mouth as he turned away to hide what appeared to be a coughing fit. It took a moment before shock hit Simon; the man wasn’t coughing, he was laughing. At Simon. Anger shot through the teen as the man continued to laugh, he’d been kidnapped, blown off, attacked, beaten, and now he was being laughed at? Without really thinking it through Simon started forward with a growl, intent on showing the man exactly what he thought of being laughed at but Alec put a hand up to stop him while he caught his breath. 

Wiping a tear away from his eye Alec turned to the pissed off boy in front of him, “My apologies Mr. Lewis, it was rude of me to laugh but I assure you I wasn’t laughing at you.” 

With a voice as dry as the Sahara desert Simon questioned the man, “Then what exactly was oh so funny?” 

“It has been so very long since anyone has yelled at me or even really ranted and raved at me instead of watching every word they say and what tone they use, it was truly refreshing.” 

Simon was dumbstruck, “You’re laughing because...I yelled at you?” 

It was funny, Alec thought, how simple things like someone forgetting about his title or powers made him feel lighter than he had in decades, “When you get to be my age Simon people don’t treat you like a normal being but like some kind of…” he trailed off as he tried to find the right word but nothing was coming to mind.

“Like some kind of deity?” Simon asked. 

He thought it through and nodded at the suggestion, “That would be the most accurate comparison, yes.” 

Turning away from Simon, Alec picked up the canister again and walked to the loveseat in the middle of the room. He set the canister to one side and sat on the opposite, snapping his fingers for a martini glass to flash into his grasp while he waited for the Vampire to settle down enough to have a level headed conversation. 

Simon watched the man watching him and weighed his options but found them sadly lacking. If Clary and her new ‘friends’ weren’t going to give Simon any answers then his only two options were to return to the Vampires or try his luck with the man, Warlock, in front of him. With a sigh of despair Simon trudged to the opposite side of Alec and plopped down noisily, “Before we get this show on the road answer me this, am I going to like anything I get from this conversation?” 

Alec took a sip of his martini before shrugging, “More than likely not.” 

“Great.”

 

 

“As you know the beings you and Clarissa were found by are called Shadowhunters or Nephilim, Children of the Angels. They call themselves the protectors of the Downworld but they are really just one cog in a greater machine. You met the Children of the Night obviously,” Simon snorted at that last bit, “and then there are the Children of the Moon, you know one of them as well.”

Simon turned to look at Alec like he was crazy, “I’m pretty sure I’d know if I were friends with a Werewolf.”

Tilting his head to the side Alec ran his index finger around the rim of his glass, “Are you sure of this Simon Lewis?” 

“Well. I mean I’m pretty sure I’d notice something if one of my friends turned into a furry during the full moon every month.”. When Alec’s expression didn’t change other than him raising a sardonic eyebrow at Simon the boy began to worry, “I would! Right..?” 

“Then you are not familiar with Luke Garroway?” 

“Luke?!” Simon bolted upright. Surely not Clary's Luke? Not his adopted father Luke? No way was he involved in this shit show, he’d have warned Clary about all of this, about what he was. 

Alec almost felt bad for the poor boy, he really did. In just a short time the boy’s entire world had been turned upside down, it had been what, a week for the boy? Did Alec even remember what a week felt like, it had been so long since he’d really kept track of time like that, that wasn’t even a blink to him. But to this boy a week could seem like it took forever, he spent hours and hours in school and raced to get everything done despite none of it really meaning anything. 

“The man you know as Luke Garroway was born Lucian Graymark, a Shadowhunter before his parabatai, the man named Valentine you’ve heard of, betrayed him and left him to a nest of Werewolves because of Jocelyn Fairchild.”

Holding up a hand in the air, “Okay sir, before you continue I have a question.”

Alec quirked his lip and nodded, “Go ahead Mister Lewis.”

“What exactly is this parabatai thing you mentioned? Jace and his sister were talking about being each other’s,” he hesitated to say the word, “whatever the hell that thing is.” 

The Warlock tried to gather everything he knew about the Nephilim so he could explain it to the boy without making it too complicated since he had so much to explain already, “A parabatai is a sacred bond between Children of the Angels, they pick a partner before the age of 8 and join together with the parabatai rune and swearing an oath to one another. To become parabatai means to become one, to become one soul in two bodies. It is the most intimate bond, you feel emotions like happiness and sadness, you share your pain between you.”

“Yuck!” 

Alec blinked in surprise at the disgust at Simon’s face, don’t most humans wish for a bond like that? To essentially become soulmates, isn’t that a common theme amongst Mundane teenagers? “I beg your pardon?”

Simon’s brow was furrowed and his nose wrinkled, “So they’re essentially soulmates? But they were siblings! Dude how can the ‘Angels’,” heavy air quotations on that really, “condone incest? Isn’t that against basically every law?”

It took a moment before what Simon meant clicked in Alec’s head, “Oh no Simon, parabatai are forbidden to have romantic attachment to one another. To fall in love with your parabatai is one of the greatest crimes amongst the Nephilim.” 

“But-but-,” Simon’s hands were flying all around as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept of basically sharing a soul yet not being in love, “sharing a soul! That’s about as romantic as it gets!”

He shrugged, he’d seen many types of ‘soulmates’ in his millenia; platonic, romantic, sibling, none of them were uncommon. Most Mundanes had the ‘soulmate’ they were looking for, just not in the way they were looking for and he explained as much to Simon, “The Nephilim in parabatai bonds are soulmates in many senses, close friends, siblings, but they can never be romantic soulmates.” 

“Do Downdemons have soulmates too?”

He’d asked the question in a quiet voice like he was afraid of the answer and Alec knew he was. It was plain to see how Simon Lewis felt about Clary Fray and he was terrified that now, with their new found heritages, that his chance would be lost, “Downworlders Simon, Downworlders. And yes, anyone can have a soulmate, your blood doesn’t change that.” 

The bespectacled teen cast the Warlock a shrewd look, “You said you’ve been alive for centuries right? Does that mean you found your soulmate? Is it another Warlock?” 

The glass froze halfway to Alec’s lips. 

His soulmate.

Images flashed like a movie in his mind; a blinding smile, golden honey eyes, a laugh as beautiful as the sunrise. The sounds of flesh sizzling, of bone and muscle tearing from sockets. 

Of death. 

Simon didn’t have to be psychic to read the pain in the man’s hazel eyes and for a moment he regretted bringing it up. There were no pictures, no signs of another person in this loft, and that should’ve been answer enough but he’d always been told he talked too much. The Fledgling fidgeted with a loose wravel of denim on his jeans while he waited for the Warlock to come back to himself, “I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have asked.”

“He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”

Surprised brown eyes shot towards the older being. Simon hadn’t expected the man to open up at all, maybe snap his fingers, turn him into a rat or something, maybe refuse to help him even, but not this. Afraid to break the spell he kept his voice low as he asked his next question, “Was he another Warlock?”

Alec shook his head, eyes staring straight ahead yet seeing nothing. 

Simon cast his eyes down suddenly not wanting to see the pain in those eyes anymore but Alec’s voice drew him back in, “There’s no sure way to know if you’ve found the one called a soulmate, only you can decide that. But I knew he was mine as soon as I saw him, and he said I was his. I knew that he would die, I knew I’d have to live without him, but you can never actually prepare yourself for that.” 

“I’m so sorry you lost him…”

Hazel eyes hardened at that, “I didn’t lose him Mister Lewis, he was taken from me.” 

Simon felt the blood in his veins freeze at the Warlock’s tone, something dark and haunted that the fledgling couldn’t have imagined in his darkest nights, it was bone chilling, “Taken from you?” 

The man in front of him stood up, martini glass in his hand, and stood in front of the window to overlook the Brooklyn cityscape, “Yes. He was slaughtered in front of me for daring to do something that no one of his kind could have ever imagined.” 

Swallowing suddenly became more difficult, his mouth and lips having gone dry, “And what was that?”

The man turned back and gave him the most heartbreaking smile imaginable, “He fell in love with me.” 

“That’s all? He loved you?” 

Simon’s brows furrowed at the thought, the man’s lover had been slaughtered because they were gay? How long ago was this? Granted things like this happened still but it wasn’t as though being gay was forbidden anymore, it hadn’t been for a while now. 

“His sexual preferences, while not exactly bringing comfort to his kind, had nothing to do with it. They would turn a blind eye to him loving another male simply because he was the best. But falling in love with a Downworlder was taboo of the highest laws. And if the Downworlder happens to be your parabatai, well,” the man gave a sardonic smirk, “I’ve already explained those consequences to you.” 

Not having realized he’d spoken aloud Simon merely gawked at the other as if he’d read his mind but then understood that he’d been babbling again and felt his face heat into a blush, “I’m sorry, sometimes I don’t think before I open my mouth.”

The rest of the sentence clicked in Simon’s mind and he felt like he’d lost any understanding of what was happening in his life, “Wait a minute! You said that only Shadowhunters have parabatais and they have Angel blood, but you’re a Warlock right? Warlocks have demon blood, so how could you have been your lover’s parabatai?”

The teen watched as the Warlock licked his lips and glanced away in what looked like anxiety, why was the Warlock nervous? 

Alec ran a hand over his mouth, he hadn’t meant to go that far but this boy wasn’t going to let it go, Alec had known him for less than an hour and he knew that much already. Maybe finally explaining it would make him feel better, lessen the guilt as it was. Taking a deep breath the older man headed back to his seat and steepled his fingers together, his chin resting on top of them, “I am...what you would call a special case.”

Simon squinted at the other’s wording, “Dude. You’re a, supposably, millenia old Warlock who lives unknown to a majority of the human population. That’s already pretty strange.” 

The man nodded, “Yes but I’m not your typical Warlock either I’m afraid, that’s why the Shadowhunters have such deep mistrust of me.” 

“I thought they hated all Downworlders?”

“This is true, however, I’m not just a Downworlder Mr. Lewis, I was born of the first Shadowhunters as well. My name is Alexander Lightwood in today’s language, one of the first ancestors of the parabatai that have taken Clarissa under their wings so to speak.” 

The silence that followed Alec’s admission made the Warlock nervous though he wasn’t sure why, in the grand scheme of things Alec was sure Simon Lewis wouldn’t be of too much importance. It had been centuries since he’d told anyone about his true heritage and even Catarina and Ragnor did not know all the details of what had transpired so many years ago, but maybe Simon Lewis would be the one he finally told. But at Simon’s continual silence and blank look Alec was sure he might’ve broken the fledgling too much to be of much help. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “You’re staring Mr. Lewis.” 

“So let me get this straight, you’re over a millenia old, have both Angel blood and Demon blood, and have a complete hate/hate relationship with what is, essentially, your family and have had this feud since what? The beginning of their existence?” 

Alec coughed lightly, “You have the most basic version correct, yes.” 

“How does that even work? I mean, shouldn’t the Angel blood and Demon blood, I don’t know, kill you?” Simon gestured wildly at the man sitting in front of him.

“How do you figure that Mr. Lewis,” Alec knew that what Simon was saying was completely accurate but he wanted to know what had made the teenager jump to such a conclusion. 

“Uhh I read books? I’ve seen the stereotypical tv shows? I mean having Angel blood and Demon blood just spells out disaster, mostly for the one with said blood, so I mean, kudos to you for surviving so long, but how the hell did that happen?” 

Raising an eyebrow the magic user merely gave Simon a blank look, “I was under the impression you were here about your own problems, not trying to dig yourself into mine.”

Simon shrugged, “Your problems sound way more interesting than mine. And tragic. And they distract me from the fact that I’m absolutely positive I’m turning into a Vampire and have no one to turn to other than you because my best friend dumped me and I’m terrified.” 

“So just an average day in your Mundane life then.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

Alec settled into the his chair more comfortably, “My story isn’t very happy so be sure you want to hear it first.”

Simon raised his hand again, “Before we settle in for the history lesson could I get a drink? Or something to eat? Or both?” 

Alec flicked his finger towards Simon and that little canister he’d gotten out when Simon first showed up skidded to the teen, “Blood.” 

There was a crease in Simon’s eyebrows, “How could you have possibly known that I needed blood? Or that I even knew that I had a problem of the vampirific sort!” 

“Oh Fledgling, I’ve known what you are turning into since the moment you passed through my wards.”

Simon took a moment to consider this before shrugging, “Fair enough, Now,” he wiggled into his chair, “let the history lesson begin!” 

The Warlock chuckled at the newborn’s antics but decided to humor him, “I was born Alejandro Madeclara in the year 744 to Mieria and Nicolás Madeclara in what is now Cuenca, Spain. Jonathan Shadowhunter was not the first angelic blooded creature Raziel created much to the Shadowhunter’s beliefs. He was the first Shadowhunter but there was a race before him called the Nenphia, ‘First Ones’, and that is where my line comes from.” 

“The First Ones were created as a subcategory of angels after humankind was created and came about in the third century when Raziel was given the job of protecting the humans. Nenphia were much like the Nephilim in their duties to protect the mundane and kill the evils in the world but they did not carry as much prejudice as the Nephilim do because they remembered their angelic mission and roots. Downworlders have existed as long as Nenphia and Nephilim however the Nenphia did not separate themselves from the Downworlders and instead saw them as equals so much so that it was not completely unheard of for unions to form between Nenphia and Downworlders.”

“So wait,” Simon interrupted and it had barely been five minutes into the story, Alec thought with amused annoyance that this story was going to drag on for a while, “you’re saying that originally you and your lover wouldn’t have had any problems because of who you are? So how did it get to be such a problem?” 

Alec held his hand up, “Patience Fledgling, all will be answered in due time.” 

“Now, as I was saying, as the centuries progressed the Nenphia began to mingle with Mundanes as well and there is where the ability for angelic blood and mundane blood to converge comes from, centuries of progress. Shadowhunters were, essentially created over a long period of time, however the culture of Shadowhunters did not emerge until much later. But even in times of coexistence such at this terrible things happened and Warlocks were still created, that is where I come from I’m afraid, a Nenphia being taken against her will. However instead of killing the demon Mieria decided that she didn’t want to loser her first born child and fought back ony to capture the demon and keep him prisoner if you will.”

Simon cleared his throat, “I’m going to feel stupid for asking this, but why is it that Warlocks are only born out of terrible circumstances?” 

“Warlocks can not be turned like Vampires or Werewolves can be, the only other race born as they are are Fae creatures but for Warlocks it’s different. Most Warlocks are born of rape, the rape of a woman by a demon.” 

Simon gulped at the mere thought, “Well why can’t Warlocks just, I don’t know, have baby Warlocks with other Warlocks?”

Alec smiled, it was like having an newborn all over again despite the depressing conversation topic, “Warlocks, I’m afraid, are born infertile. We can never give birth, or even impregnate anyone, hence why there are so few Warlocks compared to other Shadow creatures.” 

“Oh.”

“Hmm, yes,” Alec gave the other a pitying look but continued on, “Now since the Nenphia were born of Angelic blood, the Demon blood should have killed the child because it hadn’t been able to build a resistance to it but Mieria decided to try something different. She injected herself with Demon blood so her body could get used to the presence of Demon blood inside an Angelic host. Since the baby had yet to even be conceived much beyond the very beginning stage, her body would be able to help the infant’s own body handle the Demonic blood.”

Taking a sip from his glass Alec paused for a moment to think of his mother, she had done what she could have and it had kept him alive, but she’d paid the price for it in the end, “Because of her being a Nenphia her body began to reject the Demon blood, her Angelic blood attacking the cells, including the cells of her unborn child. But as she continued to inject herself with Demonic blood, the more resistance it built to the Angelic blood’s attacks.”

“If a Nephilim attempted this trick today they would surely die upon the first injection however Nenphia blood was slightly different and it could withstand the Demonic blood more than Nephilim blood can. My mother kept the attack and what she had done a secret from my father and the rest of the Nenphia for fear of what they would do if my heritage was found out. Though I don’t believe she truly thought through her actions.”

All of this information was making Simon’s head hurt but he felt like he should’ve been writing all of this down to be honest, while it was a lot to take in it was truly fascinating to hear about how new races were created, “Why do you think she didn’t.” 

The Warlock gestured to himself, “The only reason I look like this is because of a glamour, a high level...blanket if you will. It hides my demonic features and shows what I would look like as a Mundane or something of that sort. Most Warlocks don’t show their Marks until their first two decades have passed, but I’m afraid since I was born of the original Demons and First Ones, my magic was stronger and forced me to reveal my Marks much earlier than predicted. Since most Warlocks were born of Mundanes and not Nenphia there were no other cases known that my mother could’ve consulted; she had no idea what her child would be born of, but she took the risk anyway.” 

“I was born and seemed to be a normal child at first, much to my mother’s relief I’m sure, but as time began to pass she noticed things about me, I was stronger than a lot of other Nenphia children, faster as well. On more than one occasion strange things happened around me but I never paid much attention to it, after all I had no idea that my father wasn’t who I’d been raised to believe. I could use my Angelic gifts like any other Nenphia, to myself, I was perfectly normal.” 

As Simon took the last sip of blood from his canister he looked to the other with sadness in his eyes, “I’m assuming that’s when things changed?” 

Alec nodded at the boy, “Yes Fledgling, that is when things started to go horribly wrong.”

He sat forward with his face in his palms, staring at the glass top table in front of him, “I can remember that night like it was just yesterday...I hadn’t been feeling well for a few days, mother told me it was just growing pains seeing as I was a mere child at the time. She had no idea that it was far from the growing pain she had meant.” 

“That night I began to run a fever, my body felt so hot that I thought a volcano had erupted within my very being, everything burned and I could focus on nothing else but the burning. I don’t know how long it went on but I could hear myself screaming for my mother, screaming for everything to end, but when my mother came in she screamed.”

“But you don’t look anything other than like a normal guy, what was there to scream about?” 

Alec knew he’d have to at least describe what he was, but he’d already shown one person and had been called a monster in return; he wasn’t sure he could face it a second time. 

“My mark is...truly horrendous I’m afraid. Fangs, claws, glowing eyes...wings that look like they’ve decayed sprouting from my back, it’s not an attractive sight I’m afraid.” 

Simon nodded and seemed to take into consideration how much he didn’t want to talk about that specific part further, “I’m guessing that’s what she found?”

“Oh yes, she found me just as my wings burst from my back. My mother watched as the skin of her son’s back tore open an appendages from her nightmares exploded out of my body, she had to listen to my screams as I felt my muscles and flesh tear in order to let the wings out,” he looked up to see Simon giving him a horrified expression, “it isn’t something I like repeating.” 

“I can’t even begin to imagine why.”

Simon’s dry wit helped Alec settle some, “After that my parents took me into hiding, they told everyone a demon had attacked in the night and snatched me away from my very bed. They kept me in a single room with walls of stone and no windows with only my mother as company every once in a while.” 

“You were imprisoned? By your own parents? That’s just sick!” 

At Alec’s shrug the young man lost it, “It wasn’t your fault! You didn’t even know you had demon blood, how could anyone blame you for something you had no part in? You didn’t ask for your mother to be raped, you didn’t ask for her to inject herself with demon blood, you didn’t ask to be born a Warlock! None of this was your fault!” 

“I know this now Simon,” Alec placated the boy, “but at the time I was something entirely new, something no one had seen before. My mother had never told anyone of her attack so no one knew how I truly came to be.” 

“I’m not sure how long they kept me there but I didn’t know how to use a glamour at the time so my Marks remained visible to anyone who saw me, I had no idea how to use such a thing and my mother was afraid that if she approach another Warlock that word would get out of my not so dead existence. Much later someone found me, a Nenphia that was looking for a hiding spot, I guess he had committed some kind of crime, I’m not sure really, but he found me and I...I reacted on instinct.” 

The Warlock turned away, “He screamed, called me a monster and tried to kill me with his sword. At the time I was so scared, it had been so long since I’d seen another person other than my mother that when he rushed me I just brought my hands up. My magic reacted and before I even understood what was going on he was dead at my feet, his face frozen in terror.” 

Taking a drink of his never-ending martini Alec snapped for Simon’s blood to refill itself, “I’ll never forget the look on his face or the faces of the men who found us. They’d been chasing him and saw the cabin only to find me standing over their target’s dead body. I must’ve looked a sight with my Mark showing like that,” he gave a self-deprecating laugh, “they grabbed me and dragged me to the Nenphia Council Chambers where I was put on display like some kind of showcase. My parents were nowhere to be found of course, I begged for them but the Council merely called me a liar and said no Nenphia could’ve given birth to such an atrocity. So I was imprisoned once more within what is now called the City of Bones. There I sat, for three whole centuries.” 

“But the Nenphia had been so accepting! Why couldn’t they accept you!” 

“Simon, I’m not a Warlock, not a Nenphia, not Nephilim, I’m something no one has seen before and they were afraid, no one is immune to fear and out of fear people do things they later regret.” 

At that last part Simon took a breath of relief, “So they did let you go.”

“No.”

Blinking Simon stared at the Warlock, “But you’re sitting here now so you must’ve gotten free somehow.” 

“I did,” said man nodded, “but I was not released. I escaped.”


End file.
